I recently ran into a bit of a conundrum when I referred to BROADWAY BUTTERFLY as narrative nonfiction in a Facebook group for readers. A reviewer I respect corrected me, saying, “It is fiction. Uses a real case, but is fiction.” She asked the author, who, she reported, said it’s a novel, (so by definition, fiction).
Huh. This wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been wrong, so off I toddled to look up the definition of narrative nonfiction. They’re all pretty much the same; here are two of them:
Far be it from me to argue with an author about what their own book is or isn’t, but I’m sticking with calling BROADWAY BUTTERFLY narrative nonfiction because it recounts a murder that actually happened, everyone in the book was a real person, and like books by Gilbert King and Erik Larson, it delivers a captivating narrative that is buoyed by words and thoughts attributed to characters that could well have happened and are based on factual evidence but are undocumented and now lost to the sands of time.
In 1923, Dot King was murdered in Manhattan. It wasn’t especially unusual at the time for a woman to be brutally killed and the murder to remain unsolved, but this case captivated the city and country because of the victim, its nature, and the people involved. The case was covered at the New York Daily News by Julia Harpman, who, as a woman crime reporter at a large newspaper, was very unusual in her time. She was unrelenting in her pursuit of justice for Dot.
Dot King was a party girl. In the 1920s, this could be perilous, and she found herself involved with dangerous men including gangsters, politicians, and fabulously wealthy captains of industry. When she was found murdered, the case fell under the purview of John Coughlin of the NYPD, who certainly wanted to solve the case—thought he had, even—but was ultimately unable to deliver a suspect to be successfully prosecuted for this crime for a number of reasons that are explained in the book.
This case affected many disparate people directly, including Dot King’s maid, Ella Bradford, a Black woman who found herself in the center of Dot’s story when she discovered her body and as she tried to assist the police in their investigation. Frances Stotesbury Mitchell, a member of one of the country’s wealthiest families, also found herself drawn into Dot’s murder.
The question of who murdered Dot King remains unanswered, the case unsolved. So if you need clear conclusions, this might not be the book for you, although I can’t imagine anyone coming away from reading it without thinking they know whodunnit. If I have a criticism of this book, it’s that I would have liked to read a bit less about one of the characters (a suspect in the murder) and a bit more about one aspect of the whole thing (the political element), but if narrative nonfiction (or true crime) is your jam and you don’t mind longish books (this one clocks in at 432 pages), it’s very much worth a read.
Going in to reading BROADWAY BUTTERFLY, I was familiar with Dot King’s story because I was obsessed with the 1920s as a kid (so much so that I spent my high school and college years with dyed black hair cut in a style identical to Louise Brooks’). But BROADWAY BUTTERFLY includes (many!) aspects of it about which I knew nothing, and does so with detail that enhances the telling of the story, rather than bogging it down. Whether you’ve heard of Dot King or not, reading this one, you’re in for a treat.
BROADWAY BUTTERFLY is thrilling, surprising, and page-turning. The drama in this Pulitzer-worthy book—like the events and characters in it—is very real, and Sara DiVello more than does it justice.
